


Not Alone

by KendraPendragon



Series: My tumblr writing [51]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Illness, teen!lock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-07-30 01:12:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16276121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KendraPendragon/pseuds/KendraPendragon
Summary: Teen!lock. Molly's father is dying. Soon, she will be all alone. Or so she thought.A series of moments of this version of Molly and Sherlock.





	1. One left

“Stop following me!”

The rapid footsteps behind her told her he didn’t. After weeks of him annoying her and getting her in trouble, she finally had enough. She stopped dead and whirled around, glaring up at the insufferable git.

“What? WHAT?! What do you want from me?! Why can’t you leave me the fuck alone?!”

He didn’t reply, but his unique eyes stared at her. Like always it felt like he was staring directly into her soul, uncovering all her secrets. Against her will, tears welled up in her eyes.

He made her feel the pain and she didn’t want that. She couldn’t handle it.

“Stop it, Sherlock. Just stop,” she hissed, but took a step back when he took one forward. He had manoveured her against the wall. The door was right there. She should just leave and go home, be with her dad.

“No”, came his reply. Not the usual bored tone, but just as intense as his eyes.

Molly’s heart tightened. She felt bare, cornered, trapped. She couldn’t deal with him right now.

  
“You need me.”

Molly’s eyes snapped up. Don’t, she begged him silently.

“He told you this morning.”

Dad’s soft voice in her ear, telling her the cruelest thing. Her bottom lip trembled.

“Pity, Sherlock? Not really your area”, she hissed, fighting tears. “Stick to insulting and being a general shit. At least that’s honest.”

“Why would I pity you? You’re not the first person becoming an orphan. Your family has money, you have the house you can sublet once you go to uni. You’ll be fine.”

“Fine? Fine?!”

This was too much, even coming from a boy who had no social skills whatsoever.

“This is not about money, you ignorant knob! I’m losing my father! All what’s left of my family! I will be alone! All alone! There is no one left! Do you have any idea what that feels like?!”

She let out a bitter laugh.

“Of course you don’t. You have it all. Parents who love you to bits, who care for you, who accept you as you are. And you take it all for granted! All you do is moan and complain about them and Mycroft, how very controlling they are.”

“They are!” Sherlock snapped back now. “They pester me, asking where I go and what I do. It’s an invasion of my privacy!”

Molly snorted, shaking her head. Then she looked him dead in the eye.

“I’d kill for that.”

 

His eyes widened.

Hers started leaking tears.

“Soon there will be no one to ask me this. I’ll come home to an empty house, no one will have dinner waiting for me, will sit down with me and listen. I will sit at the table and eat with only silence around me. Silence is not friendly, Sherlock. It just makes you realise how bloody alone you are.”

They stared at each other, Sherlock apparently being more fascinated with her tears than with what she said. No surprise there.

Molly couldn’t look at him anymore. She was wasting her time. Why spend it with him when her dad was waiting for her?

“Just…fuck off”, she said, giving up, waving her hands in a dismissive manner and turned to leave.

 

Suddenly his arm was blocking her and she was pressed against the wall.

 

Then his lips were on her, fierce and full and warm, his long fingers interlacing with hers.

 

“You’re not alone. You’ll never be”, he panted and pressed his body against hers, cupping her face for another deep and clumsy kiss.

His kiss was so incredibly warm. Sherlock filled her fearsome heart with hope and warmth. His body was lean but his arms felt so strong around her.

 

She was safe.

 

He wouldn’t let her go.

 

Molly cried and clung to him, burying her face in his chest. Sherlock stroked her hair, whispering over and over that she was not alone.

After her tears had dried, he kissed her again, his lips brushing hers gently, tenderly, as his thumb caressed her cheek.

  
“I’m here, Molly. Always.”

  
She smiled for the first time in months, feeling safe and strong.

 

She wasn’t alone.


	2. Gone

The silence in the house after the funeral feels heavy and cold. It is strange, this invisible pressure that is pushing against his body from every side, even the inside.

Even though he’s not lost someone, this feeling seems oddly familiar.

Maybe his subconcience is just trying to feel what she feels.

She’s been so strong, these last few months and today. She prepared herself, steeled her heart so she could see this day through.

Weeks of signing papers, wills, contracts. Hours of her father explaining his financial situation instead of telling her he loves her and taking her in his arms.

It was necessary to make sure he would leave his teenage daughter well situated.  
  


There’s no one left now.

No one except of him.  
  


Sherlock looks at her now. She’s sitting in her father’s chair, wrapped in the blanket that still smells like him, and stares into the darkness outside the window.

She’s been so brave all day, didn’t cry, stood strong as they lowered her father into the ground, accepted the condolences of people she didn’t know and talked to them politely while he just wanted to scream at them to leave her alone.

But now…now this strength is gone and she looks so lost, so small, so beaten and betrayed by a world she has loved and trusted.

It hurts to see her like this, it’s a dull pain in his heart he can barely stand.

The entire day he’s been her shadow, has never let her out of his sight. She had accepted it quietly, gave him a little smile before they stepped into the church and had reached for his hand as she stared down at her father’s coffin for a long moment.

But he hasn’t talked to her, not one word.

He didn’t know what to say.

What do you tell someone who’s grieving that doesn’t sound empty or insulting?

Just as he’s musing about this, Molly unfolds her blanket and gets up.

His heart aches at her pale face and dull eyes and before he knows what he’s doing he is up and steps in her way.

She looks at him questioningly.  
  


Her eyes. So hopeless, so frightened.  
  


Gently, he takes her in his arms, pulls her close and starts to sway.  
  


He disrupts the deafening silence of the house with a slow balad inside their heads.  
  
When Molly wraps her arms around his neck and starts swaying with him, he knows she can hear the melody.

 

They do this for a long time, slowly dancing in the candle-lit living room.

It feels good to hold her, feel her warmth, her breath, the silken texture of her hair against his cheek.

“You’re not alone”, he whispers into her ear, like he has in the school hallway all these months ago. “I’m here, Molly. Always.”

“Thank you.”

She hugs him tight and he holds her as she finally allows the tears to come.

Bitterly she cries, her body starts shaking and her knees go weak.

 

But he his here, like he vowed, and he holds her tight, gives her his strength so she can deal with the pain inside of her.

They never stop dancing to the silent music.

 

It reminds them both that this will pass, that the pain will stop - and that they will always be together.


End file.
